Far and Away
by sharingank
Summary: Sometimes, you have to lose the one you love to realize what you had...IchigoRukia oneshot. Contains manga spoilers through ch. 181 and 182


Well, this is a departure from my norm (I usually hang around in Naruto-land), however I've wanted to try my hand at a Bleach story for a while now, and this is what I came up with. Hope it's not too horrid…

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* * *

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**Far and Away**

* * *

He arrived around late afternoon, when the sun was out and the clouds floated lazily overhead. The streets below were filled with cars and pedestrians, though the latter far outnumbered the former. Even from up here, he heard hundreds of voices engaged in conversation, the honking of horns, exhaust fumes: the normal goings on of the city. 

It was strange being back.

"Are you okay, Kurosaki-kun?" A buxom redhead inquired gently, her normally cheerful, open face drawn in concern.

He didn't like to see her frown. "Yeah," he forced a smile. "Don't worry about it, Inoue."

She seemed to relax a bit. "All right. But you know you can talk to me if you need to."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks."

The boy he had dubbed Chad since the day they first met caught his eye, and held it with his own intense, lidded gaze.

Ichigo shook his head silently, answering the unspoken question. _I don't want to talk about it now. _

Despite his size and seemingly vapid countenance, Chad was much sharper than most people gave him credit for. He understood that his orange-haired friend was less composed than he let on, and needed time to gather his thoughts in private.

Ishida too had been silent for most of the trip home, having his own demons to face. Born a Quincy, raised a Quincy, he had suffered a deep blow in Soul Society, the power that made him who he was being sealed away, and he did not know if it were possible to unlock it again. Out of any of them, he was the one who deserved sympathy, even though he would never accept it.

Put in his shoes, Ichigo couldn't say that he would, either.

One by one, the group that insisted upon joining him to save Rukia returned to their homes, waving and calling to him that they would see each other in school. Ishida, because he was Ishida, could not resist adding a remark that he and Ichigo would be enemies the next time they met, and Ichigo reacted as he normally would have, pulling a face and allowing his temper to skyrocket—he always was rather excitable by nature, a trait inherited from his father, though he'd sooner die than admit that.

When only one stop remained, he and Urahara stayed where they were--on Urahara's floating cape--for a moment or two, lost in contemplation.

"You did well, kid," the former shinigami gave him a light tap on the head with his fan. "Nobody's likely to forget you over there, after all the ruckus you stirred up."

"I had nothing to do with a lot of it," Ichigo grumbled as he prepared to jump. "That Aizen bastard's pretty good at causing trouble on his own without my help."

Urahara chuckled, and, with the same, mischievous expression, he tipped the cape enough for his one-time student to tumble off of it, and land on the sidewalk in a heap. "Take care, Ichigo! And watch your back. We don't know what other little surprises Aizen's got planned, so be vigilant!"

"DAMN IT, SANDAL-HAT!" Ichigo shouted as the man in green rose steadily higher. "FORGET _MY _BACK! YOU'D BETTER WATCH YOUR ASS, 'CAUSE MY FOOT'LL BE UP IT!"

But the blonde was too far out of dodge to worry about threats to his backside, and sped away laughing, a very irritated Ichigo in his wake.

"Guy's a jerk," he muttered, dragging himself to his feet, a task that required considerable effort on his part. Glancing up at his house, the scowl melted from his face to be replaced by a genuine smile. He _had _missed this place, his own bed in his own room, his sisters…perhaps even his father, but that was questionable.

He went in through the window so he wouldn't be seen, and because he knew Kon was nearby, in his real body.

Ichigo would need that.

As he perched on the sill, he peered inside his room through the glass, a vein throbbing in his forehead.

There was Kon, sprawled on _his_ bed, in _his _body, and the window was locked.

Hell no.

"Open up, jackass!" He hissed loudly, more than just a tad annoyed. _I'm gonna have to wash all my sheets…_

In an instant, Kon's eyes snapped open, and he turned to look at the window. "ICHIGOOOOOOOO!" Rolling out of bed, he dashed to the window and flung it open. "Yes! I can get the HELL outta this body! And since you're here, that means NEE-SAN IS TOO! Welcome home Nee—"

Ichigo brushed past him into the room, and he was alone.

No Rukia.

Kon's face fell. "Where's nee-san?" His tone became accusatory. "You tried something with her, didn't you! And now she doesn't want to come back, ever, because a stupid monkey like you put the moves on her!"

"She wanted to stay," Ichigo shrugged, not in the mood to argue. "That's all there is to it."

Kon was not having that. "WHAT? Then why did you go to Soul Society in the first place, huh? What—"

"It's _naptime_, buddy."

* * *

Once Ichigo was in possession of his body once more, he flopped on his back in his bed—which was still warm from Kon—and sighed. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was, and felt as though he could sleep for years. So much had happened in so short a time, so much that he couldn't begin to scratch the surface of what he experienced. 

All he knew for certain was that he changed. He grew up—somewhat. There wasn't much to be done about his temper or his foul mouth, and he wouldn't bother trying to fix either. There was no point, really. Those aspects of his personality were as much a part of him as his shock of orange hair.

No, what had changed was his sense of responsibility, his intense loyalty to those important to him, and even some who were not.

Now that he had taken the plunge as a shinigami, he had a duty to fulfill, one that he would never be able to turn his back on, or else live with the knowledge that he allowed others to be hurt when he had the power to prevent it.

It made him wonder what would have happened to him in the future had Rukia never come into his life, never introduced him to this other world, never ignited the raging fire that coursed through his veins when he put his life on the line to save her, and the friends who accompanied him to provide their support…

Where would he be?

He didn't want to think about it.

He didn't want to dream about it.

All he wanted was to drift into oblivion, and leave all these troublesome reveries for later.

Tomorrow. Next week. Next month. Next year.

Not now.

"I'm going to sleep," he declared out loud to his ceiling, which did not offer any encouraging words of wisdom in return.

That pissed him off.

"Tch. Whatever," he sniffed, and allowed his eyes to flutter shut.

His nice, comfortable doze was interrupted a half-hour later by his sister Karin's penetrating voice that carried up the stairs like a banshee's wail.

"NIIIII-SAAAN! DIIIINEERRRRRRRR!"

_Damn it…I'm not hungry…_

"NII-SAN? HURRY UP! IT'S GONNA GET COLD!"

Weighing his options, he decided making an appearance at the dinner table would be far more beneficial to his health in the long run. Not only would Karin come charging up the stairs and start screaming in his ear if he declined, his father would inevitably appear out of nowhere and torment him until he relented.

Grumbling under his breath, he shuffled bleary-eyed into the dining room, where both his sisters were setting out food in the middle of the table. Their father was nowhere to be seen, which filled Ichigo with trepidation. _That old nutcase has gotta be around somewhere—_

"ICHIIIGOOO!"

Ah, there he was.

And there was his foot flying at his face.

_I should probably do something about that…_

Grabbing for the foot, he caught it between his hands and yanked, then released his grip and jumped out of the way. His father rocketed toward the table with remarkable speed, however he managed to change direction midair before he could do some serious damage to himself and to their dinner.

"Good. You're still as big of an idiot as you were before. That's a relief." Ichigo remarked.

Kurosaki Isshin examined his son with something akin to awe. "Whoa! You stopped my insane corkscrew kick before it hit you! Amazing!"

Yuzu, the blonde out of the girls, had her hands on her hips. "When will you two ever quit? This is getting ridiculous!" A few of her carefully placed napkins had fallen due to her father and brother's antics, and she was not happy, to say the least.

Karin, on the other hand, felt differently. "Oh, don't be so fussy. At least they're entertaining," she smirked.

The other girl stuck her tongue out at her sister, who responded in turn, however she was a bit more creative, and flung one of Yuzu's precious napkins back at her.

A war had erupted, napkins, food…kicks…sailing through the air, some finding a target, others missing.

Nothing was ever boring in the Kurosaki household.

* * *

By the time they all managed to settle down enough to eat what scraps of their dinner that had not been spattered on clothing or walls, the sun had already set, and the sky was dark. 

Ichigo's bone-deep weariness caught up with him faster than Ganju's warthog could run; he barely mustered enough energy to drag himself back up the stairs and crawl into bed, wondering how he was going to get through school the next day without falling asleep in all of his classes.

"I've done it before and not been caught," he mused. "I'll just have to be careful. Heh. Rukia would probably slug me if she noticed…"

He broke off, unwilling to finish the thought.

Rukia wasn't coming back. She made the choice to remain in Soul Society.

"It's not like it matters," he said stubbornly, ignoring the faint ache in his chest when he thought of her, pictured her face. "She'll be happier there. That's where she belongs, not here. I knew that before I went to rescue her."

Without realizing it, his voice had dropped to a whisper.

"She has her brother on her side. And she has Renji. They'll take care of her."

He heard her voice in his head, now a memory, scolding him for that remark.

'_I don't need anyone to take care of me, baka! I can take care of myself!'_

His smile was ironic.

"You do a fantastic job of it, too. You're _so_ good that if we hadn't come, you'd be dog meat by now."

'_Shut up, Ichigo.' _

There was no way he'd be able to sleep tonight, not with her phantom so near.

"I did the right thing," he insisted to his wavering conscience. "I did. I don't belong there, and she doesn't belong here."

_Says who? _

"Says nature."

_When, exactly?_

"When she lent me her power. When Renji came through the portal to take her back. When I…"

He couldn't finish.

_When you—? _His conscience prompted.

"When I left her standing there, after she told me herself that she was going to stay. Don't you get it? She knows…and now I know, too." The ache became more pronounced. He closed his eyes.

Her face was burned into his eyelids.

_I suppose I don't get it. What is this thing that you both know?_

For a conscience, his was too damned persistent. Asked too many questions. Made him want to creep out of his own skin.

"Go away."

_Sorry, but that can't be done, not unless you figure out a way to exist outside yourself. I'm just reiterating what's running through your head. _

"Yeah? Well I don't want it to run anymore, so shut the hell up and leave me alone." _I'm giving myself orders…that's wrong…_

His conscience snickered. _You've never been a normal, upstanding individual, Ichigo. _

"Gee, thanks," he replied dryly. "Real comforting."

_I mean, look at that _hair—

"Go to hell."

_Only if you go, too. _

Ichigo sat up. He was getting nowhere with this bullshit.

"Okay," he said angrily, "you want to know what I know? Shinigami and humans aren't meant to be together!"

The annoying voice in his mind was silent.

Ichigo felt his hands tremble with the weight of his snarled words. The ache was an ache no longer; it was a white-hot dagger…a gaping wound…a hemorrhaging gash…

His eyes strayed to his closet, half-expecting to see the door to slide open and her head to poke through,rebuking him for being too noisy so late at night.

But the door remained closed.

She wasn't coming back.

"I did do the right thing," he murmured, "didn't I?"

He looked at the door again.

Her makeshift bed was still there, he knew, because he hadn't taken it apart yet.

Her scent was still there, lingering.

She wasn't coming back.

He fell against his bed, staring at the ceiling, breathing deep.

He missed her.

* * *

Kuchiki Rukia could not bring herself to stay cooped up indoors. The atmosphere was too stuffy, the air too imposing, bearing down on her like an invisible hand that pushed her further and further into the ground. 

Her head was full of thoughts of him, and it was driving her mad.

She had picked a spot far from the inner city, a wide expanse of grassy plain where she would not have to look at anything that would remind her of him, where she could be alone, away from civilization.

She did not believe that anyone would find her out here.

Naturally, she was wrong.

"Oy! Rukia! 'The hell are you doing by yourself?"

Wincing involuntarily, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the familiar blood red ponytail and tattooed face she would know anywhere.

"Escaping from idiots like you!" She called back, then grinned, and waved him over. _May as well, now. _

"And here I thought I was your friend," Abarai Renji pouted as he flopped next to her in the grass, shooting her a variety of fawning looks meant to generate some form of guilt on her part.

Having fallen for this trap before, she had no intention of indulging him, and gave him a playful shove instead. "Nice try," she consoled him brightly. "It was _almost _believable."

He gawped at her for a moment or two before his face broke into a smile, and he slung an arm about her shoulders, drawing her snugly against him.

It was her turn to gawp.

"Renji…"

"Don't flip out," he said in a cheerful tone, though a bit of something else lurked beneath it, something that spoke of longing, of knowing that what he searched for was right in front of him, and he could only brush his fingers against it, nothing more.

"I'm not flipping out," she retorted, though her heart pounded uncomfortably. Little white lies never hurt anything.

"Good, because you don't have any reason to."

_Are you saying that to me, or to yourself?_ Rukia wondered, eyes downcast.

She knew he had feelings for her, knew that he never stopped caring for her since they were children, knew that he would do whatever she asked of him and not expect a thing in return…

He was good to her, always good to her, but…

_'Yo, Rukia. Sorry I'm late.'_

But…

_'I'm gonna save you.' _

He wasn't…

_'Did you honestly think I'd sit around and let you die?'_

…Ichigo.

As if he sensed her sudden change in countenance, Renji tightened his grip, well aware of what she was upset about.

"Do you regret your decision?" He asked gently as he gazed at the sunset. The sky was awash in oranges and reds and yellows…a beautiful sight, indeed.

"No," she answered quickly.

The lieutenant gave her a pointed look. "I think you're lying."

Not wanting him to delve too deeply beneath the surface, she became defensive. "What the hell do you know? If I say I don't, then I don't!"

Far from being intimidated, he fixed her with another long, penetrating look, and she cringed. He had the ability to make a person feel exposed, as if every truth, every lie, every secret about themselves were out in the open, bare…naked…

His eyes twinkled.

"Did you learn that from him? I don't remember the old Rukia ever being so bitchy."

If she hadn't been infuriated before, she was now.

"Learn _what _from him?" She snapped, and wrenched herself out of Renji's hold.

And judging from the dumbstruck expression on her face a second later, she realized her folly before he had to point it out, but he told her anyway.

"_That_," he stated.

She couldn't decide whether she wanted to punch him, or laugh out loud, or both.

After tossing the idea back and forth, she settled for both.

Renji didn't much care for the punch, though he was happy to see her laughing again. Hell, he was glad to see her at all. If Ichigo hadn't come when he did…hadn't insisted that they keep trying to reach her even if the situation appeared hopeless…

He owed Ichigo a lot. More than a lot.

Everything.

"I'm gonna ask you again. Do you regret your decision to stay?"

She was quiet for a while, thinking. "Honest answer?"

He knew he wouldn't like it, yet that didn't matter. He wanted her to know she could be open with him whenever she needed to. "Honest answer."

Chewing her lower lip, she replied, "I don't regret staying so that I can regain my strength, but…I do regret letting him go."

Though that was the answer he expected, it still stung more than he would have imagined. A part of him—albeit a small part—never let go of the hope that someday, she would look at him as something more than a brother-figure, more than a protector, more than a friend…

"You'll just have to go and tell him that yourself when you're up to it."

She did something then that he did _not_ expect.

"I hope you know I think the world of you," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Flummoxed, he could not seem to form a suitable response around his awkward tongue. "I…well…you…"

She giggled. "Apparently not."

He recovered some of his composure, at least, enough to say, "You are a cold, cruel woman, and I despise you."

"That's sweet, really."

"You want sweet? I'll give you sweet!"

Her face paled. "Eh?"

He grinned wolfishly. "TICKLE!"

"NOO! STOP IT! RENJI!"

* * *

Later on that night, as she lie awake in bed, all of the thoughts she had tried to bar back came surging forth, breaking through the barriers she worked so hard to erect. 

She remembered what it had felt like, when Renji informed her that five ryoma had broken into Soul Society, and that one of them was rumored to be in possession of the largest Soul Slayer anyone had ever seen. Aside from that, the intruder's most definitive feature was his bright, orange hair.

Next to Inoue, she knew only one person who had hair of that color.

So many emotions had sprung up in her at once: excitement, apprehension, fear…

Most of all was fear.

If anything were to happen to him, if he were to die on her account, before she could see him again, she did not know what she would have done.

And when her heart gave a little thrill at the prospect of him being so close, she was ashamed of herself. She _shouldn't_ have wanted him there, she _shouldn't _have wished for one last chance to talk to him before her execution, she _shouldn't _have desired for him to hold her…

So she prayed for him to escape safely, that he would leave before he got himself in too deep, and was sentenced to death along with her.

He didn't leave. He fought captains, lieutenants, officers, all with the intention of rescuing her. He risked his life to protect hers, and at the end of it, he did not protest when she told him she was going to stay, even though he could have, should have…

Like Renji, he did not expect anything in return.

But unlike Renji, she didn't know why.

"Oh, Ichigo," she murmured into her pillow, "why did you go through all of that for me? What am I to you?"

He wasn't there, so he couldn't answer.

Maybe she would never know…

"Why did I let him leave?"

She had gotten so used to her space in his closet that sleeping in a bed again was odd, strangely alien.

She hadn't been away _that _long, so it shouldn't have mattered.

"I did the right thing. It would've been wrong of me to ask him to stay."

Ichigo was human, after all. He had a life to live on earth, family and friends who loved him. It was her fault he got involved in her affairs at all, so who was she to expect him to give up what he had for _her_?

_"You'll just have to go and tell him that yourself when you're up to it…"_

Could she go back? Would she be _able _to go back, knowing that she'd have to leave him all over again?

Tears welled up in her eyes, angry tears, and she scrubbed them away before they had a chance to hit the pillow. She would _not _cry. She _refused_ to cry. The choice had been hers. She chose to stay, and she would have to deal with the consequences.

Rolling over on her back, she looked out her window at the stars twinkling brightly in the sky, and wondered if he could see the very same stars from where he was….

This time, when the tears fell, she made no move to check them.

He was a world away.

Perhaps, someday, she'd see him again, once she was stronger.

He wasn't here with her.

Then she'd tell him all the words of her heart, all the words she should have said…

She missed him.

* * *

Yeah, so, I was VERY unsatisfied with the way the manga handled Ichigo and Rukia's parting scene…it just seemed so…impersonal, and I was highly pissed off about it for days afterward, and I meant to write this piece earlier, but I just got around to it now. XD 

Tell me what you think, eh?


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